


'til the dead don't seem so cold

by ifinkufreaky



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, F/M, Glory Hole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 21:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11298984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinkufreaky/pseuds/ifinkufreaky
Summary: There’s a glory hole connecting the bathrooms at this truck stop. Laura Moon figures out who’s on the other side quick enough, but Mad Sweeney doesn’t.





	'til the dead don't seem so cold

**Author's Note:**

> From my writing group's prompt: "Anonymous sex -- any ship"
> 
> Title from the Bishop Briggs song "Dead Man's Arms"

The door creaks like she’s walking into a fucking haunted house as Laura Moon shoves it open with her elbow; an old habit from when she was alive and had to worry about things like germs in public restrooms. The light in here is flickering and dim, an unexpected contrast to the screaming eternal daylight of the rest of the truck stop’s overhead fluorescent lights. The half-burnt out bulbs over the sink are almost comforting.

Laura isn’t even sure why she had come in here; the Grim Reaper and his solemn buddy had stripped everything out of her guts and this body will never need to sit on the porcelain throne again. It was just a habit to pop in; the ladies’ room is always a refuge for women who just need a goddamn _minute_ away from all the bullshit. Salim-not-Salim isn’t bad company, but that fucker Sweeney has been driving her _insane._

Laura turns the corner past the stalls she’ll never need again, unless of course the leprechaun’s resurrection plan actually works. She plans to splash a little water on her face, but she’s distracted by what she sees set up next to the sink. There is a hole in the wall about the size of her hand, roughly circular. It’s about three feet off the ground, a little light coming through but she can’t see what’s on the other side. A plush red pillow sits on the ground below it. The whole set-up looks like a shrine: framed by a strand of white Christmas lights which has been tacked to the wall, and the effect is completed by a little sign hanging just above the cracked opening. A single word in cheerful red lettering is emblazoned upon it: “ _worship_.”

Truck stop. Hole in the bathroom wall. Is this a fucking _glory hole_?

Laura imagines Shadow’s cock extending out of that crevice and almost sobs into the empty air. He would have loved to play a game like that with her. Laura misses sex; she misses her husband, she even misses fucking _Robbie._ There is nothing in Laura’s world quite like wrapping her hand around a cock that she knows is hard just for her. The feeling just takes everything else away. She’d take a dick in her mouth like a fucking _sacrament_ right about now.

_He tasted death on your tongue._ Sweeney’s words ring bitterly between Laura’s ears again. His taunts had been bothering her more than she let on, about how unattractive what was left of her body would be to Shadow. If a cock came through that hole right now and she wrapped her lips around it, how would she feel to it? Would it pull away in disgust?

As if summoned by her thoughts, she catches a glimpse of movement on the other side of the hole. Eyebrows climbing, Laura bends closer to the opening just in time to hear the slide of a zipper and a low voice mutter “Fuck it.”

She feels a small smile twist the corner of her lips as the reddish head of a fat cock, only half hard, protrudes through to her side of the barrier. She doesn’t even need to make a decision, just sinks to her knees on that convenient little pillow and raises both hands to receive the gift.

“Fuck! Why are your hands so fucking cold!” the voice on the other side shouts. The cock retracts and Laura recoils in shame.

But wait. The thick Irish brogue of that voice is unmistakable. Sweeney, that fucking leprechaun; she should have known he’s the type to stick his dick into strange holes. She stands up quickly, before he can bend down and look through the opening, catch sight of her face. She steps over to the sink and turns on the hot water tap.

“I’m sorry, love,” comes his voice through the wall after a moment. “You just surprised me, is all. Why don’t ya warm your hands and let’s try that again, eh?”

Laura looks at herself in the mirror as the water starts to steam. Is she actually considering this? The asshole doesn’t deserve to come, especially not under her touch, but… She looks back at the hole, sees the long pink dick poking optimistically through it again. She can’t pass up the chance to at least fuck with the bastard.

She plunges her hands under the steaming tap and holds them there until she figures they’ve taken on a living woman’s heat.

“Are ya still there?” Sweeney calls through the wall, cock wavering. Laura steps back to the little shrine, drying her hands on her shirt. She chooses not to drop to her knees this time. Not now that she knows who that prick belongs to.

Instead of answering with her voice, she wraps one hand firmly around his shaft. She hears him suck in his breath on the other side, and she squeezes a little, feeling the blood flowing in at the stimulation. Laura figures she might as well get him good and hard before she flips the script; get his hopes real high and his balls nice and blue.

She milks her cupped fingers lightly down his shaft and he sighs. Soon she’s adding the other hand, before it releases all of its stolen heat in to the air, and twisting him lightly as she tugs up and down. “Ah, that’s it, love,” Sweeney coos. He’s fully erect now, and Laura starts to wonder what the next bit of her plan is supposed to be.

She has to admit, something about this situation is hot as fuck. Sweeney’s cock is straight and long and she kind of loves having his trust for the moment.

She’ll make him regret that trust soon. The opening in the wall is big enough to let her hand pass through under his shaft, fingers worming through his fly to find his balls. “Fuuuuuuuck, yes,” he groans. His hand brushes hers as he adjusts his pants to make more room for her.

It’s an awkward angle, grabbing his balls through the wall, and so Laura gives up a little pride and sinks to her knees again. This way it’ll be easier to really dig in and twist.

Just before Laura turns pleasure into pain, Sweeney releases a throaty growl, vocal cords scraping across his lowest register, and rocks himself into her hands. Something about the sound sends a sweet thrill of arousal shimmering through Laura’s deadened nerves. Suddenly she’s not so interested in letting this end immediately.

She continues to work his balls with one hand and shaft with the other, listening to the soft moans coming through the barrier. She pictures the giant Irishman on the other side, humping the wall. Maybe he has one arm flung up to brace himself, maybe he’s rubbing his cheek against the back of his hand, eyes screwed up tight in ecstasy. Laura realizes she hasn’t felt this good in a while. Hasn’t been this alive since Shadow let her kiss him.

_Did it taste like cigarettes and vomit?_ Sweeney’s words had burned. Her hands clench harder on his erection.

“Put your mouth on it, love,” Sweeney coaxes. “Don’t be shy now.”

Laura remembers the coldness of her lifeless lips at the last moment. The hot tap is still running. She withdraws her hand from his balls, gives his prick one final squeeze before sidestepping to the sink and filling her mouth with the near-scalding water. Her dead body is capable of feeling pain, but the sensation just feels… pretty meaningless. She ignores it and lets her lips and tongue soak up the warmth.

“Where’d ya go?”

Laura thinks there’s a trace of nervousness in Sweeney’s normally cocky voice. It’s infinitely satisfying, knowing that he’s recognizing what a vulnerable position he has put himself in. She warms her hands again. This is the perfect chance to prove the bastard wrong about the “death on her tongue.” She’ll show him her body is still very capable of pleasing a man.

Sweeney’s cock is twitching when she settles her knees on the pillow in front of the strange shrine. He has one freckled hand wrapped around the base of his erection, like he’s been reassuring it in her absence. Laura gives the “worship” sign an ironic little salute, then grabs the leprechaun’s impressive length again. She could never stand to deep throat while she was alive, but she doubts she has a gag reflex now. Time to give Mad Sweeney the ride of his life.

He rewards her with more of those delicious groans as Laura takes him into her mouth, twisting her heated tongue around his head before sucking him down eagerly. He releases a string of expletives in that strange mixture of modern and ancient crassness he has as she takes him all the way down, barely noticing when he penetrates past the back of her throat. When her lips reach the flaming red pubes at his very base, he _whimpers_.

She closes her eyes and lets him fuck her mouth for a while, savoring her victory. His lust is evident in every strained movement, every frantic breath. Laura hums around him and he gives a joyful sob at the vibration.

Suddenly she can’t stop laughing. Against his urgent protests she rocks back on her heels, pulling him out of her mouth with one hand. “Not bad for a corpse, huh?” she finally speaks.

Silence on the other side, then: “Dead wife?!”

Laura chuckles again, her best villain’s laugh. “So much for how disgusting my mouth is supposed to be. You were about to cum down my throat.”

Sweeney shifts his weight, gives a soft laugh of his own. He doesn’t pull his cock out of her hand. “You think you got one over on me, dead wife? With your cold hands.”

She squeezes him again. “Turns out that’s easy to fix.”

“I shoulda known then,” he continues, “but the ice at the back o’ your throat was a dead giveaway. Didn’t gargle that hot water down far enough, love.”

“So you knew it was me.”

“The cold shocked me fer a second at first, but hey, there’s girls that suck on ice cubes for their man. It’s a kinky feeling. I enjoyed it.”

“It’s necrophilia,” Laura retorts, annoyed that the bastard was so calm. She had kind of hoped he’d be throwing up right now.

“Your flesh is moving,” he dismisses, “and willing. I put up with a little chill knowin’ it was you down on your knees on the other side o’ this wall for me.” When Laura doesn’t say anything, Sweeney goes on. “You’re gonna finish, aren’t ya love? I haven’t been blown this good for at least a century.”

**Author's Note:**

> The necrophilia joke isn't mine, saw it in a tumblr tag, had to use it because it's too fucking good.


End file.
